"Could struggle," Octavia said, quietly, after a beat where she wondered if she wanted to say it - although less about that, more about what she said next. (A private thing, and he hadn't asked. She was trying to offer anyway.) "Sometimes I do, even knowing it's futile." And another small pause. "To know it's futile."

And a tiny shrug. She was rubbing her fingertips faintly against his hand.

"But then again I don't really do ropes."